


Rattle This Ghost Town [Text + Podfic]

by Gondolinpod (Gondolin), litrapod (litra), minnabird



Series: fate, i found a place for us [4]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Audio Format: MP3, Families of Choice, Gen, Mandalorian Culture, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 45-60 Minutes, Post-Chapter 8: Redemption (The Mandalorian), Post-Episode: s04e15-16 Family Reunion – and Farewell, Rebuilding, the great purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolinpod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litrapod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnabird/pseuds/minnabird
Summary: The Empire destroyed so much: which pieces do you pick up in the aftermath?Three weeks ago, Sabine finally brought Ezra home. She's ready to take a breath, stop moving for a while, and catch up with friends. Then she receives a call that brings her face to face with other survivors of Mandalore's purge. As she looks for a place for the former Nevarro covert to rebuild, she must consider her own future.Alternately, house-hunting with a sort-of cousin who doesn't approve of your life choices and bumping into the corners of your shared past isn’t anyone’s idea of a fun time, but sometimes it’s just what you need.
Relationships: Sabine Wren & Paz Vizsla
Series: fate, i found a place for us [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555858
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	Rattle This Ghost Town [Text + Podfic]

**Author's Note:**

> A content note I wasn't sure how to tag for: this fic deals in part with the Great Purge talked about in _The Mandalorian_. It's all in the past of the fic, but there's discussion of huge losses and planet-scale destruction and some related baggage for both Paz and Sabine.

  
[Download MP3](http://www.gondolin.kalindalittle.com/podfics/Rattle%20This%20Ghost%20Town.mp3)

**Podfic Length:** 0:45:47  
**Read by:** Narration and Sabine's voice by Litra; Paz's voice by Gondolin  
**Edited by:** Gondolin  
**Written by:** minnabird  
**Cover art by:** minnabird

## Rattle This Ghost Town

“You’ll want to see this,” Mitali said, nudging Ezra towards the courtyard. He was tired from their training session—even bacta and Force-healing couldn’t get him back into shape without help. 

“What?” he asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

Mitali just raised an eyebrow. “And ruin the surprise?” Ezra rolled his eyes, but followed.

He saw Luke immediately, standing on the near side of the courtyard with a lit saber in hand. A flash of color drew his eyes to his opponent. It was Sabine, fully armored, with a green lightsaber held in a defensive position. Onlookers crowded the edges of the courtyard, from students and masters to Hera, lounging against a tree with her arms crossed and a small smile on her face. At some unspoken signal, the combatants sprang into action, their lightsabers meeting with a sharp hiss.

It was a kinetic fight, both Luke and Sabine moving with confidence, although neither relied on leaps or flips. For all that they threw out taunts—Sabine even had a tendency to grandstand, flipping her saber slowly in her hand as she waited for the right moment to strike—there was something polite and ordered about this fight. 

Ezra recognized it for what it was, suddenly: deliberate training between two well-matched opponents. Every attack was meant to force the other to try different defensive maneuvers. Ezra recognized a blend of forms three and five as Sabine and Luke took turns on the defensive. After a time, Luke’s saber slid through Sabine’s guard, and she stepped back and removed her helmet.

“Think that’s it for today,” she said. She and Luke were both grinning, out of breath but clearly satisfied. As Ezra watched, Sabine tossed her deactivated saber to Luke, then rotated and stretched her wrist. 

“That was…” Ezra said, then stopped, lost for words. Sure, Sabine had picked up saberwork pretty fast, once sufficiently motivated. But to hold her own against a trained Jedi, even one not actively using the Force to help him, spoke of long training and a lot of skill. 

“Sabine’s been haunting this place longer than I’ve been here,” Mitali said, taking Ezra’s arm and steering him into the mess. “She and Ahsoka helped Luke with a lot of the early study of lightsaber forms—when I got here, we were still reconstructing them from old holocrons, training ourselves on katas none of us had seen in action.”

“So she learned them herself?” Ezra asked. “How much?”

“We couldn’t really afford to specialize. There aren’t enough of us.” Mitali gave him a look, and Ezra shoved more greens onto his plate. The serving line was still pretty quiet, with everyone outside. “Ataru is tricky without the Force, with all those aerials, and Makashi almost requires moving bits of the scenery around, but with enough creativity, a non-sensitive fighter can make modifications to suit her capabilities. Especially a Mandalorian.”

Ezra grinned. “She still have a jetpack?”

“It’s a good thing she’s on our side,” Mitali said, humor under her serene tone.

“So...no one who trained in the old Order ever turned up?” Ezra asked.

“Ahsoka, of course,” Mitali said. “She remembered most of the basic forms, and her style with two blades is a thing of beauty. Still, a lot of it is digging up information the Empire did its best to destroy. Ask Rikki about it sometime, if you want a rant.”

“Rikki?” Ezra asked.

“I’ll introduce you. Not at this hour—she doesn’t do breakfast. She teaches history and philosophy, though much of it is teaching the students how to help her piece it together and then enlisting their help.” Mitali gestured to an empty table, and Ezra took a seat.

“I always kind of hoped there were more of them out there like Kanan or Ahsoka,” Ezra said.

“The Empire destroyed a lot,” Mitali said soberly. Ezra’s eyes flicked up to her temple. A Mirialan, Mitali wore black geometric tattoos on her face that told the story of her failures and accomplishments. One, etched small but distinct on her temple, was the familiar cog symbol of the Empire.

Someday, he’d ask.

Sabine, Luke, Hera, and Jacen joined them then, in a clatter of trays and laughter. 

“Good fight,” Ezra told Luke and Sabine.

“Nice to get in a spar,” Luke agreed.

“At least you’re a gracious winner,” Sabine said.

“I could be petty, but then would you come back and try again?” Luke said, a glint in his eye. “Wouldn’t want to demoralize you.”

“I resent that,” Sabine said, and shoved a mouthful of food in her mouth. “I could take you in a real fight.”

“Let’s not declare war at the breakfast table,” Hera said, tolerant and amused. 

A commlink at Sabine’s hip chirped, and she glanced at it with a frown, then put it away. The banter resumed, but Sabine seemed distracted for the rest of the meal.

* * *

Sabine finished her comm call in no mood to be social. Her mind was lightyears and weeks away. Maybe today was a good day for a hike.

She stopped in at the masters’ quarters to gather gear. Luke kept rooms here for her and Ahsoka. She bumped into Ezra on her way out, and he eyed her knapsack. “Leaving?” he asked. 

“Just a long walk,” Sabine said.

“Can I come?” Ezra said, with a bit of the puppy-dog eagerness she remembered from their teenage years. She smiled despite herself. 

“Have the healers even cleared you for long walks?”

Ezra considered. “Maybe not long ones,” he said, making a face. 

“You can come partway,” Sabine said. “There’s a nice overlook.”

Ezra walked quietly with her through the temple complex to the edge of the trees, his hands in his pockets. She looked him over while his focus was elsewhere. He’d gotten taller and put on more muscle than she ever remembered him having. He was, even recovering from injury, a pretty imposing figure.

“You need a haircut,” she told him.

“Could use some help,” he countered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“I’ll clean it up for you before I go,” Sabine said. She knew her voice sounded more distant than Ezra’s. His easy smile cut out, and he looked at her sharply.

“Go?”

Sabine sighed. “Got a call from a contact. Apparently there’s something or someone very important waiting for me on Takodana.”

“That sounds like a trap,” Ezra said.

“Nah. Maz is good people, she just gets mysterious sometimes,” Sabine said. “The more cryptic she gets, the bigger her news is.”

“So who’s going with you?”

Sabine raised an eyebrow at Ezra. “Ahsoka’s still gone, so I figured I’d go alone. It’s just Maz’s. Everyone knows better than to start a fight at Maz’s.”

She didn’t want to get mixed up in anything complicated. She wanted to be _here_. But she brushed off Ezra’s concern, already set on going.

* * *

Maz’s castle bustled with life, but Maz immediately picked Sabine out as she walked in. She signaled a droid server, and Sabine let it lead her back through the welter of activity. “A private room?” she asked. 

“At the request of Maz’s guests,” the droid said, its tone bland. “Is that agreeable?”

Sabine shrugged and settled into a chair with a view of the door. Most business at Maz’s could be done in open areas, even covert stuff. People minded their own business and stuck to the codes, or else they regretted it. 

“Maz says to play nice,” the droid said, and shut the door behind it.

Sabine frowned, but she didn’t have long to wait to figure out what the droid meant. The door whooshed open, and two fully-armored Mandalorians walked through. Sabine stiffened. The person in front was unfamiliar, in brown armor, a gold helmet with spikes around the crown, and a fur cape. Behind them, in bulky, dull grey armor, was someone she did recognize.

“Paz?” she said.

“Wren,” he grunted.

Sabine blinked. “Happy to see you’re alive, too,” she said, not managing to keep the barb out of her tone. Because, really: as far as she had known, Paz Vizsla _was_ dead, along with almost everyone else, but last time she saw him, they were friends. She turned her attention to the other Mandalorian in the room. “Sorry, where are my manners?” She stood, holding out a hand, her other loose at her side. “I’m Sabine Wren.”

“I am called the Armorer,” the other said, shaking her hand. Her voice was warm and rich. “My friend is called Heavy outside of the covert.”

“Of course,” Sabine said, her eyes on Paz again. “You’re Fighting Corps.”

The Armorer inclined her head. They sat, Sabine in the same spot as before, and the Armorer and Paz across from her. It didn’t escape her notice that none of them put their backs to the door. It was a hard habit to break, even in a changing galaxy.

Sabine removed her helmet and set it on the table in front of her. Paz shifted. Sabine ignored him. “I assume you’re the one who called me,” Sabine said to the Armorer. “What can I do for you?” 

The Armorer folded her hands on the table and regarded Sabine silently for a moment. “You are familiar with the Fighting Corps. You know that we regard secrecy as our best safeguard, that even in the old days our names and our compounds were known only to members of our ranks.” Sabine nodded, and the Armorer went on. “Our people survived because of that secrecy, after the Purge.”

“How?” Sabine asked quietly. “Even wearing the armor was a death sentence by the end.”

“We stayed hidden,” the Armorer said. “For nine years, we stayed hidden, until we revealed ourselves in defense of one of our own.” She was silent, and Paz leaned forward.

“Yeah, and then Moff Gideon tried to kill the last of us off.”

Sabine flinched. “Gideon?” she said. “Gideon’s alive?”

“We’ll come to that,” the Armorer said. “We have come to ask you to help resettle those of us who remain. We have made contact with a number of our people, but we have been forced to remain scattered until we can find a place we can all be safe together. You, Sabine Wren, have friends in high places in this New Republic. Can you help us?”

“I can help you,” Sabine said quickly. “Lothal…”

“Lothal,” Paz spat. “Yes, we heard about the Liberation of Lothal, and how you stayed there when Mandalore needed you. While Mandalore burned.”

“Lothal needed me, too,” Sabine ground out. “I had promises to keep.”

“Your family needed you,” Paz said.

Sabine stood, her chair screeching across the floor. “I don’t need to listen to this. I did what I had to do.”

The Armorer put a hand on Paz’s shoulder and raised her helmet to look at Sabine. “Please. I know that the Purge is a hard memory for everyone, but we are all survivors. Can our people be sheltered safely on Lothal?”

Sabine sat slowly, her cheeks burning. “I know the Chancellor of Lothal, and I’m pretty sure he’d formally promise to shelter you if you asked.”

The Armorer was still a moment. “Promises from strangers are not enough to build our hopes on,” she said. “I thank you, but I would prefer that no one know where we are.”

Sabine frowned, although she had not really expected the Armorer to agree to settle openly. “How many?”

“Fourteen, including ourselves,” the Armorer said. The hope Sabine had been beginning to feel turned to ash. Just fourteen. Out of millions of Mandalorians, fourteen Fighting Corps members, four Wrens, and a handful of others had survived, that Sabine knew of. The Empire had been thorough and brutal.

“I can find a place for fourteen,” she said.

“Will you take him with you?” the Armorer said, gesturing to Paz. It felt like a test; for whom, she wasn’t sure. Sabine thought about it a moment, then offered a smile to Paz.

“That would be a help,” she said. “You’ll know what works best for your people better than I will.” 

“Great,” Paz said.

“Then that’s settled,” Sabine said quickly. She turned back to the Armorer. “I have to ask,” she said gently. “Gideon?”

“One of our people’s greatest enemies, returned from the dead to pursue the last of us,” the Armorer said. “He did not come to our home looking for us. He was looking for a child: one of those who Mandalore the Great once fought.”

“A Force-sensitive,” Sabine said.

The Armorer tilted her head, curious. “You speak as if you know of such things.”

“I do,” Sabine said. She shouldn’t be surprised Jedi were nothing more than legends to them. The Fighting Corps had never had much to do with the Jedi. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard about Force-sensitive children being chased down by Imperial loyalists. You said Gideon was looking for one; how did your people come into it?”

“One of ours, a bounty hunter, was the first to find the child,” the Armorer said. “Instead of turning it over, he saved it.”

“And then we saved his ass,” Paz said. “And then Gideon came for us.”

And left only fourteen alive. The heaviness of that consequence hung in the air between them. “I’m sorry for your losses,” Sabine said. “You made a brave decision. An honorable one. I _will_ help you keep the rest safe.”

* * *

“It’s not that I care what he thinks. What any of them think,” Sabine said.

“But?” Ahsoka prompted.

Sabine sighed. It was late, by the ship’s chronometer, and she should be getting some sleep. “How did you feel when you met Kanan?” she said.

Ahsoka was quiet, then after a minute she laughed. “A lot of complicated feelings,” she said warmly. 

“What if he’d been angry with you because you left the Order?”

“You didn’t stop being a Mandalorian, Sabine,” Ahsoka said. 

“No, it’s…” Sabine rolled her head back, looking up the ceiling and trying to gather her thoughts. “Sometime after I went back to Lothal, he joined the Fighting Corps. They’re...different. More devoted, in some ways. Their armor becomes their entire identity to the rest of the world, and their loyalty to Mandalore, to the Fighting Corps, to their clan is more important than any individual. They used to go out to protect people who needed it, but I think now they protect their own and what’s...left.”

“They’re the biggest group of survivors you’ve met, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Sabine said. “So, no, I don’t care what he thinks, but I don’t belong in what I’m helping him build, either.”

“You’re not alone,” Ahsoka said.

Sabine smiled, through her throat ached. “You’re on your way to the Temple, right?”

“Finally,” Ahsoka said. “Rex is a busy man these days.”

“I should have waited. How long has it been since everyone’s been together?”

“We’ll be together again. Do what you need to do, Sabine.”

“Thanks.” Sabine pressed the comm unit against her chest. The lightyears between here and Ahsoka felt smaller than they had before. “Hey, I’ll see you soon, okay? We’re overdue for a drink.”

“Yeah, you owe me one for finding Ezra without me.”

“You were busy checking in on all the kids. How was I supposed to know playing messenger would lead me right to him? You’re the one with mystical powers.”

“Still owe me one.”

“Deal. You, me, that place on Celanon with the Rim Drive acts.”

The next morning Sabine found a HoloNet station playing drive music and turned the volume up until it filled the cockpit. After almost half an hour of scream-singing along while she worked at the navicomputer, Paz entered the cockpit.

She’d taken the shuttle, and it was barely big enough for two people to stay on comfortably if they liked each other. Mindful of that, Sabine turned the volume down. “This okay?” she asked.

“Haven’t heard this song in a while,” Paz said, settling into the copilot seat. Sabine turned to look at him. 

“You know Spacer’s Tears?”

“Everyone knew Spacer’s Tears in ‘70,” Paz said.

“Guess that’s true,” Sabine said. Paz was about ten years older than her; just old enough that their childhoods didn’t really overlap, even if she had never thought to treat him as an elder. The computer beeped as it finished a calculation, and she saved the route. “I know you don’t like the idea of Lothal, but it will be safe. Rebels found places to hide there even under the Empire.”

“I don’t care about Lothal,” Paz said. 

“They’re alive, you know,” Sabine said. “You gave me a hard time about leaving them, but my parents and Tristan are alive, if you didn’t know.”

“Would you be singing a different song if they’d died and you weren’t there?”

Sabine’s hands tightened into fists. “No. I was where I belonged. Did you abandon your family when you joined the Fighting Corps and made your name secret?”

“Mandalore needed me more.”

Sabine let out a long, slow breath. “I’m not like you,” she said. “I can’t put my whole heart into where I was born.”

Paz scoffed. “It’s not about where you were born,” he said. “It doesn’t matter where you were born. Once you swear the Creed, you don’t break it.”

“I didn’t swear your Creed.”

“Not our Creed, no,” Paz said. “But you swore an oath all the same. Or did Ursa Wren let you don the armor without it?”

“I followed it my way.” She turned and looked out the viewscreen at the flickers of hyperspace. “Why did you join the Corps, anyway?”

“You know they went for the farms first? I don’t think they planned on destroying everything yet, but they razed every fertile region in the sector to starve out the resistance. My older sister ran the family farm.”

“That’s awful.”

“When you’ve got nothing else, you have loyalty.”

It was a twisted version of a line from the Creed Paz had sworn. Sabine had read it once, when the Fighting Corps had first shown up to swear themselves to the resistance. _I renounce my face, my name, and my clan of birth; to the world, I am nothing but my loyalty; to my Tribe, I give my all._

“Heavy…” 

He interrupted her thought. “You might as well call me Paz. We're in private.”

Sabine let out a sigh. “Truce? I made my choices, and there's no going back. Can you at least trust me to keep your people safe?”

“The Armorer trusts you. I'm just following orders.”

* * *

Lothal was a welcome sight, swirling blue and gold as they neared it. Sabine guided the ship to the spaceport at Capital City. “We can start in the city or farther out, but I need to stop in and grab a few things if we’re going to go exploring anyway,” Sabine explained. “Welcome to Lothal.”

They left the spaceport on foot, traveling through a district of homes and shops. It was the middle of the day, and people filled the streets, pushing hoversleds, looking for a place to eat lunch, calling out their wares from stalls. In the distance, at the city center, white spires rose like graceful stems. 

Paz’s head turned as they walked, taking in everything. “What are our options in the city? Is there much underneath?”

“Yeah, and you get a few levels of possibility. The sewer system is pretty extensive, but you don’t want to spend too much time down there, believe me. They built a couple other maintenance levels when they rebuilt the city center, might be worth checking out. Your best bet’s probably gonna be a cellar of some sort, though.” She pointed at a small transparisteel window just peeking out at street level on one of the houses. “A lot of these houses have those; they used to just be food storage and storm shelter, but rebels found some other uses for them, too.”

“What about the house on top?” Paz asked.

“Hmm, good question. You can’t exactly use the front door if you don’t want people noticing you’ve got a lot of armored people coming and going. We’ll see what we can find.” 

They wound their way closer to the city center until they came to a two-story house, nearly identical to its neighbors except for a panel of Rylothian carving over the door. Just as Sabine turned off the street, a voice called her name. She turned and found their neighbor Hanna waving from a second-story window. She grinned and waved back. “Hey!”

“Good to see you back,” Hanna said. “Who’s that with you?”

“Distant cousin,” Sabine called back.

“Bring your cousin around for dinner if you’re here long enough!”

“Thanks, Hanna.” Sabine unlocked the door and turned to gesture Paz inside. He was tense as he stepped into the house.

“You can’t find us a place in the city,” he said.

“Because a neighbor said hi to us?” Sabine said. 

“Because there’s always someone watching you,” Paz said. “You, specifically. You don’t notice that?”

“Oh. That.” Their eyes on her had never felt like a potential threat. “That’s...I guess, yeah, since the Liberation a lot of people have gotten to know what I look like. That’s a problem, isn’t it?” The door had led them straight into a living room, neat but clearly lived-in. Sabine went past the couch that dominated the room and led Paz down a small hallway that led to the side.

“Is this place yours?”

“Nah. A friend lets me have a room and keep my stuff here, though, since I don’t have a permanent place on Lothal right now. We’re borrowing some of her stuff for this.”

She stepped into Hera’s office and came out with a heavy-duty scanner, which she shoved into Paz’s arms.

“You hold that.” She shoved a few other items into a bag and slung it over her shoulder. “All right. I think we’re ready to go hunting.”

The kinds of places that were good to hide a group for the long term had a few things in common. 

One, they needed access to water. Not too hard to find on Lothal, but an important factor. 

Two, access to food and other supplies. For a lot of rebels and other folks hiding out during the Empire’s rule, access to farm communities had been enough, but if Paz didn’t like people’s eyes on Sabine, he definitely wouldn’t like the familiarity of a small town. She couldn’t just hide them somewhere remote, though, even with the ecological recovery coming on nicely. There was no telling how many of the Mandalorians had any experience cultivating food. 

And then, of course, there was shelter from sun and rain and the howling windstorms that sometimes swept across the plains. Ideally, that shelter would be hidden even from people who ended up nearby, given their desire for secrecy. Tunnels and caves, then. Keeping her options within easy reach of Capital City narrowed it even further. 

Once they were back in the shuttle, Sabine pointed its nose towards the mountains near the city. As the spire-dotted plain gave way to long, low ridges, Sabine turned to Paz and pointed at the scanner.

“I’m going to do some sweeps. Do you know how to program one of those to look for caverns?”

Paz nodded, and Sabine took the shuttle down among the mountains, weaving through them as near to the ground as she could get. There were a few hits from the scanner, but Sabine shook her head as they turned out to be too small for their purposes. After a time, the scanner lit up like a fireworks show, and Sabine set the shuttle down so they could get a better look. 

Gravel crunched underfoot as she stepped off the boarding ramp. They were in a clear spot with just a few scrubby bushes, though not far off the slope rose in a sweep of striated tan rock. They climbed down a tumble of larger rocks and found a large, dark hole in the mountain’s face.

“What’s it looking like?” she asked. 

The scanner came with straps to hold it against the user’s chest while hiking, and Paz had kept hold of it. He stopped and fiddled with the display. “Tunnel branches off. One of them leads to a series of wider caves…”

“It’s a little far from the closest river,” Sabine said. 

And so it went. They spent several days exploring the mountains; they spent the second night in one of the caves they explored, though they hadn’t liked it for long-term use. Night insects chirred outside, and Sabine found herself surprisingly comforted by the stone closing around her. 

Most of the caves they found here were tubes formed by lava flows in the planet’s distant past. The same eruptions had deposited layers of volcanic ash on the land below, which wind and water had shaped into Lothal’s distinctive spires. In the southern hemisphere, similar activity had produced even more dramatic effects, but the tunnels looked much the same wherever you were on Lothal. Stepping into the caves felt like stepping into the past; she half-expected to meet Loth-wolves. 

They found it on the fourth day. A series of branching tunnels led underground, but they followed the scanner readings and they opened up into a cavern so wide and smoothly-cut it took Sabine’s breath away. She was sure it wasn’t wholly natural even before her eyes fell on the ancient paintings that curved across the ceiling. They showed swelling thunderheads and sharp zigzags of lightning in a brown just a few shades lighter than the rest of the cave. 

They wandered through the complex, finding shafts that let in air and sunlight and a few more caverns large enough to hold people. Sabine called up her notes on the rivers in this area and noted a stream nearby. Everything was in flood right now, so it was hard to know what it would look like in the winter, but they could store it.

“Wren,” Pax called from farther down the tunnel they were in, and she hurried to catch up. The tunnel swelled into a slightly larger space, and near the far wall was a hole in the ground, clearly shaped by human hands. “I think this is a well,” he said. “I’ve got readings for water, anyway.”

“Do you think?” Sabine asked, and Pax looked down at her. He seemed to sense that she wasn’t asking about the well.

“This one,” he replied.

* * *

This was where the hard work came in.

The Mandalorians were capable of fitting out their new home, but Sabine wanted it to be livable before they moved anyone in. She wanted lighting. She wanted storage, and some food supply laid in. She wanted to get the damn water systems working.

Sabine went back to her plans again with a frustrated huff. The discovery of the well, and another one farther back in the complex, made things easier, but they had probably last been used decades if not centuries ago. A modern pump and filters hadn’t been too hard to put in, but she was having trouble with the added complexity of a wastewater treatment system. 

“I thought you were some kind of engineering prodigy?” Paz said.

“Not the same kind of engineering,” she growled. 

Tempers had been fraying all day. Sabine got up to take a walk and clear her head, and when she got back, Paz muttered something snide about long breaks, and Sabine finally snapped.

“I’m trying to be the bigger person here, but you are making it so hard,” Sabine said. “I get it! You’re the perfect son of Mandalore. You never made any bad decisions, like, oh, I don’t know, going to the Imperial Academy, or swearing to Gar Saxon. And I’m sure none of your friends were Imperial Super Commandos—only about half of Gar Saxon’s commandos came from the Fighting Corps before they defected.”

“I did what I had to do to protect my family—”

“So did I!”

They stood glaring at each other, at an impasse yet again. Paz was a rock wall, physically and interpersonally. If he didn’t want to move, he wouldn’t. Sabine crossed her arms, ready to be just as stubborn.

“You know why it pisses me off to see you again like this?” His helmet vocoder flattened the viciousness of the remark, but his helmet jerked as he said it, as if he spat it across the room.

“I really don’t.”

“It pisses me off because some people still see you as the rightful Mand’alor.”

“What?” Sabine uncurled her arms, letting them fall to her sides. “That can’t be right.”

“You won the Darksaber in combat. Everyone’s heard that story. And sure, you gave it to Bo-Katan, but they say she was holding it for you. Like a regent. So they sing of you out there, still alive, a Mand’alor in exile, the Darksaber stolen and held by the coward who destroyed our home and scattered our people. You’re a symbol to them.” Paz stepped closer. “But I know you.”

“I’m not a legend.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not a leader.”

“No.”

“I’m not the Mand’alor!”

“But you _could be!_ ” 

Paz had actually shouted, and she stared at him. He broke away from her. “I appreciate that you’re helping us. But this? This is just a favor to you. You could do so much more. People would follow you, if you stayed and tried.”

Sabine laughed to hide the hysterical flutter in her chest. The idea was as absurd as it had been eleven years ago. “This is getting us nowhere. I’m going back to work.”

She did her best to ignore Paz and forced herself to focus on anything but the argument. Eventually Paz finished the wiring inside and went up to work on the solar array. Her mind settled into problems she could actually solve. The next morning, after a restless night in the covert, Sabine had an answer of sorts. She followed Paz up into the bright sunlight and called, “Take me back to the city.”

“What? Why?”

“I have something I need to do.” She raised an eyebrow. She knew she wasn’t being particularly reassuring. If she was honest, it was fun to needle him. “You’ll still have my ship; I’ll have to come back for it eventually.”

“Fine,” Paz said, and flew her back to Capital City with ill grace. 

Sabine’s room at Hera’s house had a narrow bed in it, but it was mostly given over to shelves stuffed full of salvaged materials, tools, and art supplies. She had already pulled things off the shelves for the covert project, but now she went through again, methodically searching for the pieces she would need. She didn’t have everything, but a quick trip out to a supplier she knew fixed that.

Several hours in, elbow deep in electronics, she found herself laughing into a comm call. She had just meant to check in with Ezra, but she caught him with the rest of the old Ghost crew and Luke. They traded old stories and good-natured teasing over the call, and Sabine felt the warmth of it settle into her chest as she worked. 

It was two days before she was ready to head back.

When she stopped the speeder at the entrance to the cavern, Paz came up to meet her. There was a moment, suspended in the glimmer of a spring afternoon, when they just looked at each other.

“Well?” Paz said. 

Sabine hopped off the speeder and lifted one of the pieces of cargo from the back. It was a dish about the size of Paz’s head.

“Find a place this won’t stick out too much, but the sky won’t be obstructed.” She shoved it into Paz’s arms before he could protest, and started unloading the rest of her equipment.

“What is this for?” Paz asked.

“Paz, I know you know what comms equipment looks like.” She glanced up. His unmoving stance gave her the distinct impression of exasperation. “It’s a HoloNet transceiver. Don’t worry, I’ll get it set up so no one can trace the signal here.” Sabine stepped into Paz’s space. “Think of it as a promise. You call, I’ll answer.” 

Paz tilted his helmet down, and Sabine looked up into the visor, fierce. “I can’t give all of my heart to one people. But I can promise to come when you need me.”

“Keep that promise, and I’ll answer when you call,” Paz said.

Sabine raised an eyebrow.

“You can’t avoid it forever.”

Sabine pulled away with a laugh. “That title was never meant for me. You’ve got a leader.”

“The Armorer shapes our community and keeps our history. She leads us now, but she isn’t our leader.”

“Leadership is about what you do and who is willing to follow,” Sabine said. 

“It is.” 

“Go put up that dish.”

Paz actually chuckled. “Yes, my lady.”

Sabine stared after him, her mouth half-open in a retort she never voiced. Had he actually made a joke?

* * *

Their people were home.

When the ramp descended and thirteen people in achingly familiar armor filed out, Sabine was glad of her helmet. It hid the tears that choked her unexpectedly. She helped unload what she could, making herself unobtrusive, as Paz showed them through the caverns. 

A tall warrior in dented red armor accepted a bag from her, then reached up to trace the Wren markings over Sabine’s visor. “I know these, but you don’t wear yellow and grey. Sabine?”

“Yeah. That’s me,” Sabine said, resisting the urge to rub the back of her neck like an embarrassed teenager. 

“Call me Tutor. I’m honored to meet you,” the woman said, then offered a hand. Sabine grasped it, then the woman nodded respectfully and went on her way. 

She found other looks turned her way, felt the others’ attention when they passed her. By late afternoon, a few of them had started preparing a meal for the whole group, and Sabine retreated to the room set aside for the forge. A shaft of sunlight pierced the ceiling, gilding the fur over the Armorer's shoulder as she worked. 

“Can I help you?” the Armorer said dryly after a moment.

“Just wanted a quieter place to go,” Sabine said.

The other woman looked up. “You are uneasy with them.”

“I’m not…” Sabine shrugged, trying to put into words the itch under her skin, the bittersweetness of the joy of seeing them all here. “I don’t belong here. I’m not one of you.”

“I never said you had to be one of us.” The Armorer examined her critically. “There are six things that make a Mandalorian. Education, armor, self-defense, clan, language, and loyalty to our leader. Our Creed tells us how to fit these things into our lives, but you have your choice of how to do so.”

Sabine was silent. She had never turned her back on those values. Except… “Clan is complicated,” she admitted. “My family, I love them, but they’re not...I’m not a Wren before I’m anything else.”

“Clan is more than who you are born to,” the Armorer said. “We have no family names. May I tell you how we find our clans?”

“Of course,” Sabine said, with something between curiosity and wistfulness. This was something the Fighting Corps had kept quiet about in the old days. 

“It is something that comes to us as adults,” the Armorer said. “When some event happens that tells us we are ready to step out on our own, to not only form our own paths but guide others on theirs. Most often, this happens when we take on a foundling to train for the first time, but that is not always the case. We say, when this happens, that our signet has been revealed, because the armorer,” and here she touched her own chest, “will forge a symbol based on the event that showed us our clan.”

“What is yours?” Sabine asked, curious. There was nothing visible on her armor that indicated an affiliation. 

“I wear only the signet of Mandalore, as all armorers do.” She twitched aside the fur covering her left shoulder, and Sabine saw a small gold-tinted mythosaur skull affixed to her leather pauldron. “We guide all who come under our care. Paz wears the same signet, for his own reasons.”

Sabine reached up, her hand brushing over the scuffed paint of the mythosaur skull she had painted on her own pauldron. “I don’t wear this for clan,” she said softly. “I wear it for remembrance.”

“The other?” The Armorer indicated her other shoulder, with the painted purrgil.

“Also remembrance,” Sabine said, smiling. “Although it’s a little out of date. We found that lost friend.”

“I am glad to hear it.” The Armorer considered her again. “Think on what I said about clans. If you ever find you need a signet forged, I would be pleased to have the making of it.”

“Thanks,” Sabine said, and stood up. “I should go check if anything’s broken yet. I don’t want to leave you with any messes.”

“Are you certain you want to leave? You would have a place here, if you wanted one.”

Sabine paused in the doorway. “I don’t want to stay for good,” she said. “But I won’t stay away, either.”

“Then the covert welcomes you, Sabine Wren.”

* * *

Sabine found Ahsoka in the refectory clearing up a late night game of dejarik. “You’re not tired of looking for people, are you?”

Ahsoka eyed her sideways. “Why? Did you have someone particular in mind?”

Casually, Sabine leaned one hip against the table and met Ahsoka’s eyes. “Moff Gideon. I’m going to track him down and make sure he sees justice this time. Are you in?”

“Sounds like another long project,” Ahsoka said, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. 

“All right, be as cryptic as you want. But I’m putting out feelers with my contacts.”

She got a meter and a half away from the table before she heard Ahsoka’s peal of laughter. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Better be with bells on, Tano,” Sabine said, turning to walk backwards and wholly unable to restrain her smile.

“What does that even mean?” Ahsoka complained.

She might not spend her days with her Mandalorian family. But maybe the Armorer was right: maybe clan was the life you made going forward, and the people you made it with.

Maybe someday, she’d figure out how to guide others.

In the meantime, she had a score to settle with the man who had razed her home system, good friends willing to back her up, and a sparring match to win in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ceewelsh for betaing!


End file.
